Creative Writing

Who am I?

The night asks who am I ?
I am its secrets-anxious, black, profound
I am its rebellious silence
I have veiled my nature, with silence,
Wrapped my heart in doubt
And solemn, remained here
gazing, while the ages ask me,
Who am I ?
The wind asks who am I ?
I am its confused spirit, whom time has disowned
I, like it, never resting
continue to travel without end
continue to pass without pause
should we reach a bend
we would think it the end of our suffering
and then-void
Time asks who am I ?
I, like it, am a giant, embracing centuries
I return and grant them resurrection
I create the distant past
From the charm of the pleasant hope
And I return to bury it
to fashion for myself a new yesterday
whose tomorrow is ice.
The self asks me who am I ?
I, like it, am bewildered, gazing into shadows
Nothing gives me peace
I continue asking-and the answer
will remain veiled by mirage
I will keep thinking it has come close
but when I reach it- it has dissolved,
died, disappeared.

- Nazik Al-Malaika